Cars

I live on a main road and there is a constant hum of traffic. It doesn't vary too much, except for in the wee wee hours of the morning when I love to hear a car coming. I can't often tell which direction it's travelling in, but I just love hearing the barely audible rattle of a car going over concrete rifts and potholes a few kilometres up or down the road and then its descent into silence again.

So in the daytime when there is a consistent motorised murmur it's hard to tell where one car starts and the other ends. I hear the peak of each one as it passes directly below me, but its whistling departure is smothered by the next tailgater, and the next, and the next.
This used to annoy me when I would meditate on sound, because it was difficult to hear each sound draw out to its end. But I think now that I enjoy it. I guess I'm reminded of a spawning ground for fish. I feel like I'm always at the party, even when it's over and most people have gone home and I get to sit and listen to the last person leaving and pattering off into the distance, taking their noise pollution with them.

Even more lovely is a late Saturday night pricked with a deeply profane tune blaring from a rolled down window that's halted at the traffic lights "HEAD DOWN ASS UP THAT'S THE WAY WE LIKE TO FUCK, HEAD DOWN ASS UP THAT'S THE WAY WE LIKE TO FUCK, HEAD DOWN ASS UP THAT'S THE WAY WE LIKE TO FUCK, HEAD DOWN..."
It's shocking enough when it arrives but once it's departed it's blissfully ironic. All that noise about sex and then the speedy loud exit maybe accompanied with a screaming laugh or some shouting is a proclamation of existence. Well, I am here once they've moved on.